The Bruises Left Behind (Closed RP for Dean and Rachel)

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

((Backdated slightly to just after Rachel's conversation with the YED. Beware the emo. It burns us, it does.))



I'd ducked into a bathroom, first. So I could see the damage. Definitely a thin red line cutting through my scar, dried blood around the cut. But it was already clotting - if I was lucky, it would heal clean.

More than I could say for my psyche.

After cleaning off my neck the best I could, I headed down to the groundskeeper's hut. To find Dean. Because, for whatever reason, he was all tied up in why a demon had felt the need to torture me for a little while.

My fear was getting swallowed up in my anger, though I'm sure that some of it was still peeking out from behind my eyes. But, legs moving quickly, barely noticing anything around me, it was my anger that was driving me down to the hut. Because if I acknowledged the terror, I'd probably be some huddling lump of nothing in the corner.

Slamming my fist a few times on the wooden door by way of knocking, I stood back and waited for Dean to open up. Patience was a virtue I was definitely not in possession of right now - if he took too long, I'd kick down the damn door.

Comments

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Not that Dean was in the mood to speak. To anybody.

Particularly to Rachel. After what the demon had said about her (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1324716.html?thread=67278252#t67278252) back at the sorting... shit. He had an urge to pretty much never speak to her again, actually, if that was a way to keep her from receiving that fate. God, what that thing had threatened... Made Dean's blood run ice cold.

Not that he could have some kind of screening process of his door either. He was opening it, whiskey bottle in hand, eyebrows slanted into narrowed slits as he pulled it open a crack, and automatically swore under his breath, shoving the bottle onto the nearby table in some lame-ass attempt to hide it. Failed. Oh well.

"The hell're you doin' here?"

It seemed to be his common way of greeting her now, wasn't it?

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

((Punch ok'd by Dean-mun! :D))

Ok. Deep breath, Rache. Calm, Rache.

Oh, fuck that. My fist flew out, connecting with his face, in a mean right hook. "What the fuck was that?" I growled, moving forward so fast my cut started bleeding again.

All that fear, all that helplessness, all the rage, just came out at Dean. "I'm supposed to pass on a message." Glaring at him, my eyes snapping, I pushed into the hut. "Care to tell me why I'm a fucking message girl, Dean?"

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

What the--

Dean certainly hadn't been expecting the punch. Oh yeah. Sent him reeling backwards, in fact, a hand to his cheek. Ow. He didn't want to admit that a freaking girl had gotten the better of him, and definitely not that she had just sent his cheek into full-out throbbing with just one punch. Dammit.

"The hell was that for?" he was snapping automatically, and, well, he couldn't help it that he was a little pissed about her punching him without warning. Message girl? Message from who? The hell was going on? "The hell are you talking about?"

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

"That," I spat, "was because some demon just decided to make me his little plaything, and he said it was because of you. Care to tell me why?" I was shaking, now, running on adrenaline so I didn't have to stop and think. "What's the matter, Dean? Make some deal you couldn't handle? Or did you do this on purpose? Huh? How you get your kicks - fuck some girl and then sic a demon on them? Get off on that?"

It didn't make sense, and if I'd been processing things clearly, I'd know that. But I was scared - and I didn't handle being scared well. My hand went up to my neck, wincing at the feeling of my fingers brushing against the cut. Damn it. Bleeding again. I considered punching Dean again, just for the hell of it.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Some... Oh, fucking shit. Dean automatically froze at the mention of the demon, his shoulders bristling into that straight line all over again and his facial features molding into something blank and unreadable. She saw... She actually came into contact with... fuck. Lots of string of swears, oh yes, running through his brain in some wild mantra.

"N-no," he replied slowly, glancing her over and flinching a bit. "I don't... Are you bleeding?" Subject changing for the win? As if he could stay on that topic for long at all. God, Dean, dodge! Dodge! "How did... was that the freaking..." God fucking dammit. "I'm gonna get you a... some gauze or something." And, of course, started to dig in one of the drawers nearby, ignoring the broken glass scattered across the counter. Oops. Did he not clean that up yet?

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

My jaw set and my face went pale. My pinkie charm was hiding the freckles, thank God, or they'd be dotting over my face like little bruises. In a voice far too calm and controlled for the situation, I said, "Dean." Walking over to him, I gripped his arm. "You need to not lie to me right now. Ok? Right now, at this moment, Dean, you need to not lie to me."

The words strangled out in my throat and I stared at him, intent. The blood was a little trickle, cutting across the skin of my neck and disappearing into the collar of my shirt. I could feel it, sticky and warm. And I could still feel the euphoria the demon had wrung from me, could remember what it was like to writhe, helpless, up against that fucking wall. My fingers clenched harder against his arm, digging in, and a brief flicker of terror crossed my eyes before I squelched it out. "Tell me what that was. Tell me you didn't send it after me."

Tell me I hadn't trusted someone else who betrayed me.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Dean's eyes automatically jumped back to her, a look of disgust taking over his features. Did she seriously just even suggest that? "What? God, no," he replied in a mildly insulted voice, glancing away again and grabbing some gauze out of the drawer. He tossed it to Rachel and shook his head. "Your neck's bleeding. Might wanna stop that," he added lowly, hands suddenly jumping to his hips as he started back into the room, in a half-pace.

God, he couldn't believe it had actually talked to her. Christ, after what the hell it had said to Dean? He couldn't even imagine what it had said to her. Her fucking neck was bleeding. What did it do? "Why? What'd it say to you?" he asked abruptly, turning quickly back to look to her, eyes flashing with wariness. "What did it do? Did it hurt you?"

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

For a second I held his eyes before I sagged slightly, leaning against his counter. I believed him. Thank God. "Good," I mumbled, catching the gauze easily and pressing it to my neck with a low intake of breath. Still far too sensitive, but I'd deal.

Shrugging, I looked away. "I'm fine. It just..." A short half laugh seemed to be my only response. "I hurt it first. Probably not a good idea. I don't think it likes me very much."

Glancing around the room, my eyes lit on the alcohol and then the broken glass. "Dean," I asked slowly, avoiding his questions for one of my own, "how does a demon know you?"

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

She hurt it first? Normally he'd quirk a grin and ask how she did it. Did she hurt it bad? But this was a completely different situation. With the demon involved... Yeah, his sense of humor was completely lost. To the point of being nonexistent, actually. Like it was right now, definitely.

He really didn't want to answer her question. He kind of just wanted to melt into the floor right now, really, disappear completely. He couldn't believe it had even gone near her, and, God, that thing better not have hurt her too much, because as if he didn't have enough reasons to waste the thing.

"It..." he started to mumble slowly, shaking his head to her and sighing. No, not going there. Saying it was nothing, though, that would have just been condescending right now. She'd probably punch him again. And he'd like that... not. "Long story. Really long story."

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

I stared at him for a moment. "You have got to be kidding me." Oh, he very nearly did get punched again. Advancing on him, my voice low and not trembling at all, not a bit, I glared at Dean. "I just got fucking attacked, Dean. That...that thing knew my name. It threw me up against a wall before I could even fight back. It made me..." I felt my throat close up and I dropped my eyes, a hot flush of shame coloring my cheeks.

"It made me like it. It knew just what to do, to... I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't... I wanted to, but it held me, and..." Breaking off with a small shudder, I fell quiet, jaw working.

Then I lifted my eyes back up to Dean, expression hard. "It gave you a message. It said that plans had changed. It's not going to kill me anymore, apparently. Now I get to be like Meg. Whoever that is. And he's going to keep me." My voice had gotten louder and I poked my finger into his chest. "So, sorry, Dean, but 'long story' isn't going to cut it. Because after all of this, it told me to ask you why. So, Dean." I swallowed, hard, and my eyes were most definitely not filled with helpless, scared, angry tears. Because I was not going to cry about this. At all. "Why?"

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

As she spoke, Dean could feel his mouth automatically run dry, eyes flickering to her with a lick of shame darting into his own vision. It... Oh, God, it was actually starting to go through with that... what it'd promised Dean? There was a severe flare of guilt washing over his features as she went on, his facial features running numb. His fault. This was all his fucking fault. If she just hadn't met him, if he hadn't led the thing practically to her freaking door... God, this was all of his fault. And, admittedly, Dean blamed himself for a lot, but then a lot of everything was his fault. Just like this, now.

Shit.

"I can't believe it freaking..." he started to say, and trailed off lamely, rubbing at his arm. God, this was going to eat at him. Severely. She was finishing after her pause, eyes flaring up to his own. Wasn't goign to... Was going to keep her? Like Meg? Dean swore, loudly, then, turning back to the counter and slamming his fist onto the surface. Oops. Bad idea. Glass. Right. He let out a hiss of pain, looking at his hand and picking out pieces of glass. Eugh.

"It j..." He sighed, angrily, gritting his teeth and looking to the ground. God, she really deserved an answer. "My mom," he finally managed to get out, in a flat, slightly shaky voice, a deeply chiseled frown working at his mouth. "Killed my mom." Short, and not so sweet, but definitely to the point. "And... my dad. And... lots more... really long story." He let his eyes glance to her, then, warily, eyebrows slowly raising.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Letting out a low breath, I looked at him for another moment. Then, with a sigh, I walked over to him, taking his hand in both of mine. "Here," I murmured. "Let me do it."

Leading him over to the sink, I turned on the tap and gently began to clean out the glass. I focused on my task for a while, the only sounds the water hitting the sink and the tinkle of glass as I pulled pieces out. Finally the wounds were clear and bleeding freely; I held it under the water, my fingers all knotted with his, and let it wash out.

"Demon killed my dad, too." It wasn't much, and I said it quietly, but my eyes went to his and held it. "It's not your fault. This is what demons do. They find things you care about and they taunt you with what they could do to them."

After the words came out, I realized what I'd just said and blushed, hard, before sputtering, "Not that you care about me. I mean, you don't, it's not... I wasn't saying that." Jesus, Rachel, could you be a bigger spaz?

Turning off the water with a wince, I grabbed a towel that looked relatively clean and started to dry off his hand. "Look, I... I'm not exactly a stranger to this kind of thing. I can hold my own. It just caught me off guard." My eyes narrowed. "It won't happen again."

Maybe I was still holding onto his hand, but...I wanted to make sure it was dry enough before I wrapped it. Really. "How's your face?" I asked him, one side of my mouth going up in an apologetic smile.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Rachel was grabbing at his hand before he could even begin to protest, which he proceeded to do anyway, once she was leading him over to the sink and flicking on the water. Lots of grumbling. Probably nothing that was actually making its way through the wall and actually sticking somewhere to her brain.

The cuts burned, but he didn't so much as bat an eye as she washed off his hand. Instead, he chose to do that thing he always did, when he decidedly kept his eyes very much away from hers, avoiding any forms of contact at all costs. It was obviously not a comfortable topic with him, if that wasn't obvious by, you know, the way he tried to flinch away from her the second she was done cleaning out his wounds.

"I d..." he started to mumble, flinching again. Did he care about her? Man, that was the million dollar question that he wasn't going to answer right now. He knew the answer. But he... definitely wasn't going to voice that out loud. Not that he... and... Wow, just not thinking right now.

Okay, forgetting the question. Or... shoving her question way down into the lock box that he never let anything out of again. You, know, whichever one. Her comment made him give her a wry smile, eyes still staring very much at the sink and not to her own. "Looks like we got somethin' in common, huh?" he asked knowingly, clearing his throat. God, this was so awkward. He hadn't felt this uncomfortable with something since... Well, when Lily had attacked him about Faith, actually, what do you know? Redheads.

"Can't hold your own with this thing," he replied in a short, curt voice, narrowing his eyes at his hand. She was still holding it. ...Huh, he hadn't noticed. "Trust me. I've dealt with demons, man. Killed demons. At least sent'm back down way south, you know? This thing, though..." He trailed off then, and just let his sentence hang.

How was his face? Oh, the unexpected punch, she meant? "Yeah you got a..." He paused, jerking back when she tried to touch him. "Hell of a right hook." Don't touch. God, just fucking go. "It's fine. Not the first time I've been punched."

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

This was not a conversation I was well equipped to handle. I was not the type to poke Dean out of his funk or say words of wisdom or anything like that. Him backing away from me, throwing out a challenge - it basically made me go all stiff and glaring and ready to punch him again on my way out.

"Sounds like a plan," I said through grit teeth. "I'll be sure to drop you a line."

Turning around, I stalked towards the door, already compiling a list of what I'd need. Oh, I was going after this bastard all right. Turn take me if I was going to let some human scare me off of a fight. And this yellow-eyed freak had just declared war on one very pissed off witch.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

He'd been all set. All tensed and prepared and ready for her to start in on him again, bitching and ragging and whatever it took to just get this through his head. He knew it took a lot of work when he was concerned - he made mules look like they backed down easily - but he was at least expecting it. And... ready...

Only. ...Okay. Apparently, reverse psychology? Not working on Rachel.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" he was automatically calling, jogging after her and grabbing at her arm. "No! Shit, Rachel, God! No!" He started pulling her back a bit, away from the door, something new flaring in his eyes amongst the anger. Was that... fear? "Jesus, you're gonna get yourself friggin' killed. Are you nuts?"

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

My eyebrows raised as he pulled me back; I hadn't been expecting that. He'd seemed more than willing to write me off and let me go. "I'm not nuts," I glared at him, chin jutting out defiantly. "I'm just not going to let some fucking demon make me cower in a hut."

A second too late I caught the fear in his eyes, but I didn't apologize or take anything back. I was terrified, but that wasn't going to stop me. "Something has to be done. We can't just let it...wander around. And I'm not going to die." Maybe my voice wavered a bit as I met his eyes steadily. "Remember?"

I got to be a demon's plaything. So much better than death. Except for the 'better' part. "I'd rather die than let this thing just keep tormenting me."

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

"I'm not fucking cowering!" Dean automatically roared in an incredibly defensive voice, posing a very threatening, slightly scary figure when his shoulders straightened out and he stood a few inches taller than his usual hunch as per the last few days.

He was automatically shrinking down, scrubbing at his face and stalking off in the other direction again, and when that anger was gone from his eyes, the only thing it was stripped down to was pure fear. Arms folded tight across his chest, he glared off into the hut, away from her, muscles tensing all over again.

"I don't know what the hell to do," he replied tersely, grimacing. "Okay? And, you know, barreling in head-on without nearly any preperation kinda got me landed in the hospital for a couple weeks, so I'd rather not repeat the fact, okay?"

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

"Then act like it," I shouted back. Him stalking away had me tossing my hands in the air and turning around myself, fingers drumming on my leg in frustration. I was not what one might call 'brave'. Running away when outnumbered? Perfectly reasonable plan of action in my book. But I hated to be threatened. And I hated even more letting the big uglies call the shots.

"Isn't this a freaking magic school?" I said after a minute, turning back around and tucking my hair behind my ears. "Don't they have someone who might have books or something on this? I mean, Turn take it all, I'm perfectly willing to say I'm in over my head. But I can't just sit by and wait."

Tentatively I walked over to him, almost laying my hand on his arm before letting it fall uselessly to my side. "We'll just have to come up with a plan. But you don't get to shut me out of this." One side of my mouth tipped up and I crossed my arms, cocking out my hip. "I can kick your ass, Winchester. Don't forget it."

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

She was so lucky she was a girl. A girl he tolerated. Anybody else, and she would have gotten a fist to the jaw by now. Nobody told Dean whether he was being a coward or not. He would decide that on his own, thank you very much. Not that he could decide on freaking anything when this thing was involved, but, shit, he could try.

"Oh, yeah, books and shit," he retaliated crossly, narrowing his eyes. "Good shot. We should look under demonology. Ooh, you know, maybe there's a section, marked in the table of contents? Yeah, 'How to Kill Yellow-Eyed Ones'. Hell, maybe there's even a 'Death to Family Demons for Dummies' somewhere in there! Oh, man, it's worth a try." The sarcasm, it burns us, it does. "You think I haven't looked for shit like that?" Yeah, he'd been bluffing a bit when he'd told the demon that there were plenty of magical ways to waste him.

He flinched again at the feel of her hand on his arm - subconscious, he swore - glancing back and frowning to her. Plan. Right. If only he could come up with one somewhere between all of the inward flailing and oh-shitting. "You couldn't kick my ass if you tried," he replied crossly, scowling.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

I couldn't do anything else at that moment. My brilliant plan involved a flame thrower of some kind and about a thousand gallons of accelerant. Somehow, I thought that was probably not going to work.

So I simply narrowed my eyes at him and lifted my chin. "Bring it on, Winchester. Fifty bucks says I lay you out."

When in doubt? Just hit something real hard. I couldn't fix the demon thing. Neither could Dean. But maybe some good old-fashioned sparring would clear our minds.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Okay, that? Would hurt him like a bitch. Would be incredibly, incredibly fun, and he'd probably chime in to help. Dean could make a flamethrower out of nearly anything, damn pyro. But, yes. Definitely wouldn't do much.

"Hundred says I take you 'fore you can get a few good hits in," Dean scoffed in return, frowning to show his disapproval. He didn't want to fight Rachel, particularly not right now. A fight would be fantastic, but, God, not with her. He knew he'd step up the game too much, and, God, he'd probably kick her ass into next week. He wanted to hurt something. Just not her.

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

"Ha," I snorted. "I train with a living vamp, cookie. I'd wipe the floor with you. But if you're afraid..." I trailed off and shrugged.

He'd have gotten a good ass kicking right the hell then if I'd known what he was thinking. But there were other ways to work out aggression. "We could just have sex."

Then, cocking my head to the side, I suddenly spun, lashing out one leg to take Dean out at the knees. Another quick move and I was straddling him, pinning his arms over his head. "Or we could do both," I smirked, raising one eyebrow at him. "But somehow, I think I could take you."

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

Afraid? Dean? He automatically drew up to his full height again, all ready to administer some kind of comeback about how, no she really couldn't kick his ass, dammit, he'd hand her hers on a freaking silver platter, thanks kindly.

But, you know, mention of sex? It had definitely thrown him off track for a moment. He blinked, managing to get out a, "Huh?" before she lashed out.

Oof. He was fucking out of practice.

But, seriously. She might have gotten the one-up on him with the element of surprise on her side, but that whole pinning him down thing was so not going to fly. He grabbed back at her hands, his larger ones easily overpowering hers as he flipped the two over and pushed a knee up between her thighs. "You couldn't take me if you were paid to do it, sweetheart."

[racheltherunner.livejournal.com]

Sweetheart? Sweetheart? My upper lip curled up slightly and I growled. "Oh, cookie." The leg outside of his hooked up over his hip; using his body weight against him, I turned us quickly, winding up on top again and grinding my hips against him harshly. "You are so in over your head."

My grin was feral as I looked down at him, hair cascading over my face. Leaning down, I bit him just at the crook of his neck, sucking hard enough to leave the skin pink. "I'm going to take you down, sweetheart," I whispered into his ear, letting my tongue dart out to taste the skin just under his earlobe before I was up and off of him, standing a few feet away, eyebrow cocked.

It was so on.

[wayward-son124.livejournal.com]

"Cookie?" Dean repeated aloud in disbelief, and actually.... laughed. It wasn't an amused, happy laugh, by any means. It was actually more a psychotic laugh of somebody teetering on the edge of mental insanity, a dangerous position that Dean had been taking as of late, especially with this newfound appearance of the demon. But hey, at least he was laughing, right? ...Right?

That was it. The heel of his hand pushed at her shoulder just as she leaped off, and he clambered to his feet, eyes contorting into narrowed slits. damn straight it was on. You don't just do that and then jump away, man. Not cool. "Well, aren't you just the biggest tease this side of Hogwarts?" he commented with a growl, starting to slowly circle the witch a frown contorting his features.